


Keeping It In The Family

by Jodine16



Series: Three Dimensions in One [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Double Penetration, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, gaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jodine16/pseuds/Jodine16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had no idea how this situation came to be. Yeah, the Animus had been screwing up pretty badly yesterday but it was fine today. Still didn’t explain why his Italian ancestor was performing fellatio on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping It In The Family

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kyohaku's birthday.

Desmond moaned, gripping the bed sheets tightly. He had no idea how this situation came to be. Yeah, the Animus had been screwing up pretty badly yesterday but it was fine today. Still didn’t explain why his Italian ancestor was performing fellatio on him. Well, at least it was better than the nightmares. “Ezio, where...how...” Ezio didn’t even get Desmond fully undressed before pouncing on him.

“He still babbles; you are clearly not doing a good job.” Desmond turned glazed eyes towards the other man in the room, Altaïr, who up until that point had been quietly standing in the corner.

“My job is admirable, if the bulge in your breeches is anything to go by,” Ezio retorted calmly, tonguing the throbbing vein on his cock. “Perhaps his mouth merely needs something to occupy it.”

Desmond panted and watched the Syrian come closer. He loosened the ties to his pants and let them drop to join Ezio’s pile of armour and clothing, revealing his erect cock. Climbing onto the bed, he settled on his knees near Desmond’s head and offered him his dick. Desmond’s hand released the bed sheet and came up to grasp the organ, sucking the head into his mouth. Altaïr groaned softly, rocking his hips, urging the American to take more. Desmond allowed it and flinched a little when Ezio’s cold fingers brushed against his asshole. The Italian pressed his fingers in along Desmond’s cock, wetting it before returning to push into his hole. The feeling was foreign but not painful. Ezio took his time preparing Desmond, not wanting his descendent to feel anything but exquisite pleasure. Ezio finger fucked him thoroughly, smirking when he found that delightful spot inside him that had the man turning into a shivering mess.

Desmond pulled away from Altaïr’s cock, stroking it. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” he whimpered, bucking into Ezio’s hands.

“Don’t hold back, prezioso,” Ezio whispered, thrusting his fingers against his prostate faster. “We have all night.”

Desmond’s back arched and he momentarily forgot how to breathe as he striped his torso with come. He collapsed back onto the bed, breathlessly, missing the grunt of pain from Altaïr when he gripped his cock too tightly. He absently stroked the eldest assassin, trying to get the puddle of goo that was his brain back into order. He hummed softly, eagerly kissing Ezio when the man leaned down. Fingers ran through his hair and pulled him away from the kiss to Altaïr’s neglected cock. He sucked lazily for a while before he managed to get his thoughts collected.

Altaïr grunted and tried to get Desmond to move faster, glaring at Ezio when the man chuckled. “Impatient,” Ezio smirked, licking the head. He and Desmond licked along his cock, sharing kisses over the organ. Altaïr groaned and thrust, trying to get one of them to suck him down. Desmond took pity on him and swallowed him down, relaxing his throat as much as he could so he could let Altaïr throat fuck him. “Impressive,” Ezio said, ducking under to suckle on Altaïr’s balls. Altaïr released Ezio’s hair to run his thumb along Desmond’s stretched lips.

Gripping the novice assassin’s hair, he pulled his glistening cock out of his mouth, pre-come and saliva strands keeping them connected. “Ezio, lie down,” he instructed, leaning down to capture Desmond’s lips in a brief, demanding kiss. “Straddle him, facing me, Desmond.”

Both men complied, horny and curious as to what the Syrian assassin had in mind. Gripping Ezio’s cock, Altaïr spat in his hand—since he could not see a jar of oil anywhere—and lubricated him. Altaïr guided Desmond to sink onto Ezio’s cock, his cock twitching in the air at the noises they made. Ezio’s hands found their way to Desmond’s hips and his grip tightened as Desmond took him to the hilt. Desmond watched Altaïr stroke himself through half-slit eyes, panting as he allowed his ass to adjust to the intrusion. After a few moments, he decided he had relaxed enough and rocked slowly, a moan spilling from his lips.

Altaïr gripped the base of his cock to avoid releasing too soon. He watched Desmond gain some momentum before knee-walking over to the humping pair. Settling between Ezio’s legs, Altaïr pressed fingers into Desmond’s mouth, who eagerly suckled on them, running his tongue between each digit. Removing his fingers from his mouth, Altaïr reached down and ran his finger along his stretched hole before wriggling a finger in alongside Ezio’s thrusting cock.

“Wha... What’re you doing?” Desmond gasped, jerking in their hands when his prostate was rubbed. “Oh, fuck yeah!” His dick sluggishly became half-hard from the jabs against the wonderful gland.

“Contrary to what Malik may believe, I can be gentlemanly,” Altaïr said, pressing another finger in. The two older assassins soon had a whimpering, malleable mass of flesh on their hands (or in Ezio’s case, his dick). Altaïr removed his fingers and spat in his hand again, coating his angry-red cock before moving closer to their joined hips. Desmond stilled, his breath catching in his throat as Altaïr pressed into him beside Ezio. Desmond rested his head and hands against Altaïr’s shoulders when he was in as far as he could go. His fingers dug into the scarred flesh as he tried to relax against toomuchtoostretched feeling in his ass. Altaïr ran his fingers through the cool come on Desmond’s chest and smeared it over his softening cock, stroking him slowly.

“Altaïr,” Desmond moaned softly, lifting his head up to kiss him. Their kiss was interrupted by Ezio who was feeling left out and tried to sit up, jarring the cocks in Desmond’s ass. He cried out against Altaïr’s lips, clenching around them. “Fuck!”

“Spiacente,” Ezio apologised.

“S...S’okay,” Desmond mumbled, rocking back. All three of them groaned as Altaïr pulled part way out before thrusting back in, careful to keep his movements gentle until Desmond let them go harder. And harder did they go. Desmond didn’t notice his babbling switched from English to Italian to Arabic and back again as he rolled his hips in pleasure. He allowed Altaïr to push him back until he was lying against Ezio and the Italian assassin turned his head, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss as the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the room. Desmond’s hands fell from Altaïr’s shoulders to the ruined bed sheets to balance himself. A random thought entered his head about why he was still wearing his unzipped hoodie, but the thought left as quickly as it came when his prostate was jabbed.

Ezio cursed in Italian and grabbed Desmond’s hips, his own thrusting up quickly until he ground into his ass, stilling with a loud groan. Desmond felt come running down his ass crack as it was squeezed out around their cocks. Ezio’s over-sensitized cock slipped out and Desmond took the moment to shift off the Italian, Altaïr eagerly following after him, keeping their hips joined. The Syrian growled, using the hot lubricant to speed up, Desmond’s ass making sloshy, squelching noises. Desmond wrapped his legs around his waist and a hand around his own cock, masturbating in time with Altaïr. “Right there, right there, ah hell yeah!” Desmond keened, coming again. Altaïr rutted against him several more times before coming to a halt. He held still for a moment then pulled out, delighting in the utterly fucked-out look Desmond presented. The American let his legs fall obscenely open and his hole was red, gaping, and leaking come. Altaïr collapsed on his other side, breathing hard.

“Looks like I took care of his babbling,” Ezio said smugly after a long moment of silence.

Desmond didn’t even open his eyes as he slowly closed his legs. “Hmmm, fuckin’ ‘mazin’...” he mumbled, drifting off.

He awoke several hours later to pounding on his door and a familiar British accented voice filtered through the door. “Desmond, get your arse up right now! Bloody wanker, has the nerve to sleep in while keeping the rest of us real workers up all night!”

Desmond groaned, burying his head into his pillow. The amazing dream had done wonders for his lack of sleep and he did not want to get up that moment. “Fuck off, Shaun!”

Desmond heard the door handle rattle and was too fuzzy to notice the bed moving. “Miles, you get your arse up or I’ll—what the hell?!” Desmond turned his head, fully intent of giving Shaun the riot act, when his throat dried up.

There, standing in all his nude glory was Altaïr with his hidden blade unsheathed and he did not look pleased. “Who are you?!” He demanded, holding the knife to Shaun’s throat. It was then that Desmond also happened to become aware of the hand on his hip and turned his head to see Ezio looking at Shaun with an equally annoyed look on his face. His other hand was under the pillow they had apparently been sharing and Desmond could see the glint of a knife in his hand from the hallway light pouring into the room.

“...That wasn’t a dream?” Desmond said weakly.

Well, if his life wasn’t already a bundle of danger and excitement, it was now.


End file.
